


Lipstick

by theescapist99



Series: Blood [3]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Dark fic, Guilty Percival, Jealous Credence obviously, M/M, its basically a collection of loosely connected stories where credence self mutilates, thats not so much the focus this time around though, this is part of the blood series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 09:24:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10331510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theescapist99/pseuds/theescapist99
Summary: Percival forces himself to send Credence away, for both their sakes.Unfortunately, that still doesn't stop rumors about Percival's inversion from spreading around MACUSA like wildfire. For the security of his job and person, he seeks the aid of a long time female friend in an attempt to dispel the rumors.Too bad Credence didn't get the memo that it was all a farce.





	

It had been very painful to let Credence go.

Percival had to be firm, however.

There was no way this little arrangement was going to work in the long run, and it was better that they cut things off now before Credence got too attached.

Percival was a man who was meant to live alone. And Credence, clearly, needed help amongst many other things – none of which Percival felt equipped to provide for the boy.

So when Newt Scamander wrote to tell Percival that he had acquired a more spacious townhouse and could finally take Credence in himself, Percival knew what he had to do.

Of course, Credence did not take it well.

Percival wasn’t sure how many more variations of “it’s not you, it’s me” he could have said. And although Credence would drop the subject, Percival could see in his eyes that the boy did not believe a word of any of it. He wanted so badly to kiss the boy, and explain to him just how hard this was for him too. He wanted to undress him with both affection and caution, and Percival longed make the boy smile again through physical pleasure.

Yet Percival knew that simultaneously, those exact same desires were all the more reason that he needed to send Credence away.

In the days leading up to Newt’s arrival, Percival forced himself to be as stoic and as poker faced as he could possibly be. It was an expression he had mastered over the course of his life, although he found it particularly difficult this time around -- his emotions were rarely ever in such turmoil.

He saw Credence off at the dock, at least.

The boy kept staring at him with disbelieving eyes, as though waiting for Percival to reveal that this was all some elaborate joke. Percival found it hard to reciprocate eye contact, and so he found himself looking just about everywhere else.

Scamander and Tina seemed to keep their distance until it was last call for boarding, probably trying to allow Percival and Credence some time to say goodbye. And Percival sincerely wished one of them would take the boy from his side, just so he would stop making him feel so damn guilty.

At long last, Scamander called for Credence to catch up to him.

But of course, Credence stayed where he was, already on the verge of tears.

“You be good, kid.” Percival patted the top of his head awkwardly, and Credence mewled before bursting into full blown sobs. He grabbed a fistful of the sleeve of Percival’s jacket, and Percival looked over to Tina for help.

She and Newt were watching the scene with sad expressions, but appeared to be making no move to pry Credence away.

Percival sighed.

He knew he couldn’t do anything too drastic in such a public place. He settled on pulling Credence into a tentative embrace, one hand trying to rub circles on Credence’s violently shuddering back.

When his mouth grazed Credence’s ear, Percival told him, “You’ll see me again. I promise. This is just what’s best --- for now.”

He stopped short of making any more bold statements -- truth being that he wasn’t even sure he could keep the one he had just made. Percival was a busy man who rarely had time for himself, and he wasn’t sure how or when he and Credence might see each other again.

He just knew it wasn’t going to be anytime soon.

When Newt finally went over to them to pull Credence off him, the boy was begging through broken sobs.

“Pleeease… please Mr. Graves….” he cried as he was being literally dragged away,”…don’t make me go…I- I’ll be better, I promise. I’ll be anything you want. Please, no… Percival!”

Percival turned away suddenly, blinking away tears of his own.

He already knew the boy’s expression of hurt and disappointment would haunt him for likely the rest of his days.

 

* * *

 

 

He didn’t hear from or about Credence for some time.

Yes, he could have written the boy -- but he wasn’t sure if it would help or hurt to be reminded of him so soon.

In typical Percival Graves fashion, he decided it was the latter. He distanced himself – at least, from the idea of direct contact.

Occasionally, he would still get updated via post from Newt Scamander. He found the correspondence frustrating given Newt’s scrambled, sometimes unreadable notes.

Still, Percival was happy to get any news on Credence at all.

_October 20th, 1927_

_Percival –_

_I think he’s adjusting well. I have him helping out with feeding certain creatures, only the gentle ones of course. I make sure he doesn’t stray to the rowdier groups. He is very fascinated by how different magical creatures are from muggle ones. I feel like he’s growing more curious than fearsome, which I like to consider progress._

_He does still talk about you quite a bit, but as you’ve requested, I’ve done my best to make sure he doesn’t dwell too much. It is hard though, he’s honestly reminded of you at every turn!_

_Anyway, he’s also eating better, so that’s good. I hope this finds you well, as always._

__Newt_ _

 

Percival found a lot of comfort in imagining Credence looking awestruck at some majestic beast, maybe even smiling as he petted a furry creature or two.

He only wished he could be there to witness it. He yearned to envelope Credence’s frame into a firm and anchoring hug from behind.

But Percival knew he could not – for a great many reasons.

Inversion was largely discouraged, even amongst wizards. He couldn’t say for certain if even Newt would be keen on it. He was sure the magizoologist had likely summed their unusually close relationship up to that of a fatherless child and a childless father, both trying to fill some void in their lives.

No, Percival reminded himself – Newt likely had no idea.

He had hoped at least, no one else did either. He held on to the idea that his little stint with Credence would be buried with him, for both his own safety and Credence’s. When it came to that seemingly small part, Percival though he had peace of mind.

And then there were rumors.

He couldn’t say if it was Queenie, and although she certainly had the skill, Percival didn’t think she would start such dangerous gossip. Still, it had to have been someone with a pretty good hand at legilimens that got MACUSA talking.

They giggled and whispered quietly as he strode past both strangers and friends:

 “Mr. Graves? An invert? Get out of here!”

“No, no, it’s true. I heard he was diddling the Barebone boy not too long ago.”

“The obscurial? Wasn’t he like, 12?”

“Holy cow, so he’s an invert and a cradle robber?!? Geez…”

At one point, Percival hexed some woman in the auditing department out of frustration. He wasn’t sure what to make of it when no one wrote him up for it.

* * *

 

“You want me to what?!?”

Della, a young woman in her early 30’s, sat across from him as they ate their lunch. Her hand froze halfway between the plate and her open mouth; the pasta she was about to shovel down in limbo as she gaped at him.

“Please, Della. It’s just for the party.” Percival pleaded with her, “You know the things people have been saying about me. Piquery has been oddly distant with me, and I’ve started to become more and more concerned about the impact these rumors could have on my standing in MACUSA. I’m sure it hasn’t slipped your notice, either.”

“I don’t know, Percy,” Della eyed him warily, finally putting her fork down. “You’re not wrong, I guess. But I got relationships too, ya know? If I pretend to be your date…”

Percival rolled his eyes, “I’ll set Roth straight later. I _need_ this Della.”

After another moment of thoughtful hesitation, Della smiled meekly. In the bright sunlight that helped to compliment her long red hair, it indeed made her look quite pretty.

There was a reason he had approached Della particularly.

Anyone who saw a woman on his arm would likely not believe they were together unless she was _outstandingly_ attractive.

Even in a faked relationship, Percival Graves had very high standards.

 

* * *

 

_January 6 th, 1928_

_Percival –_

_Credence tells me you’re seeing someone now, is that true? I wasn’t sure; I think he mentioned he heard it from Tina. Anyway, I don’t know that it’s related, but he does seem to be rather depressed. I’m trying to take his mind off things, but he seems to have lost quite a bit of interest in, well, everything. I’m not really sure what to do._

_Something even more disturbing… I found him bleeding the other day. At first, he tried to hide it from me, although I could clearly see he was bleeding through his shirt. When I forced him into a corner, I saw he had a gash on his arm. He said that he got it from an occamy. I don’t think I’ve ever even sent him to feed the occamies. Again, not really sure what to do, but I’m trying to keep an eye on him._

_Anyway, it might not be related, so don’t get too worked up about it. I plan to have a serious talk with him later this evening, so hopefully I can get down to whats bothering him,_

_If you are seeing someone, I congratulate you and I do hope it’s going nicely. I may try to visit soon, and hopefully I can meet the lucky young lady._

_Talk to you soon,_

_Newt_

 

* * *

 

Abruptly, the updates from Newt stopped.

Percival tried to write him several times, his imagination already frantic with worry – but after that last letter, there was dead silence on the other end. He recalled what Newt said about talking to Credence that evening, and grimly wondered what the boy may have revealed to him.

He was almost ready to take a boat over himself when he overheard Tina complaining to Abernathy about Newt’s creatures.

“He leaves fur all over anything,” she groaned, “Just this morning I had to clean off my briefcase…”

“He’s here?!?” Percival interrupted, coming up behind her. She nearly dropped her coffee mug in surprise. When Tina spun around to look at him, she looked more aghast than Percival could remember seeing her in some time.

“Gee whiz, Mr. Graves. I didn’t see you there…”

Percival failed to feel guilty over startling her, his frustration at Newt’s avoidance of him taking over. Disregarding the crowd that populated the hallway in which they stood, Percival snapped, “Why hasn’t he been answering my letters?”

Tina’s eyes widened and it was obvious she wanted to bolt then and there.

Abernathy spoke up, reminding Percival that they were not in private.

“Come now, Mr. Graves.” He laughed nervously, “From what Tina tells me, he just got here the other day. I’m sure the two lovebirds have been busy reconnecting and what not...”

Percival glared at him, and the little twerp literally flinched. He stepped backwards, curling into himself.

It reminded Percival of someone.

“Is he with him?” Percival turned back to Tina. She bit her bottom lip, her gaze downcast -- but her silence was confirmation enough.

Percival turned heel and left.

 

* * *

 

Della was in love with him.

Unfortunately, by the time actually noticed, it was much too late. The woman was practically making plans for their wedding. Percival blanched at the thought, but he kept that to himself.

He worried what might happen if he turned her away, and she told all of MACUSA the truth in her scorn.

Much like her hair, Della was a fiery woman. She was a longtime friend that Percival had loved and respected in other ways, but he was also very familiar with her faults.

One of those faults was her fondness for vengeance, whether life altering or petty.

Even if she didn’t go blabbing to the entire wizard community, Percival wondered how breaking up with such a beautiful gal like her might look, and what that might do to his already rotting reputation.

He probably should have had the foresight to see this coming, but by now it should be no surprise that Percival Graves was rather inept when it came to matters of the heart.

She was waiting for him by the door of his brownstone, on the same day Percival had found out Newt was in town. Percival could tell she had spent a long time crafting her face and hair, likely coordinating her outfit as well.

To any normal male, Della’s get up would likely be an instant erection.

Percival, however, was in no mood to entertain her delusions.

He barely glanced at her as he strode past, trying to get through the door before she could say or do anything.

He failed.

With all the aggression her small and dainty frame could muster, she shoved her way in through the door before Percival could close it properly.

He groaned, “What is it, Della?”

“I’ve been waiting for you all day Percy!” she hissed vehemently, “Where were you?”

“I have had a very long day at work.” Percival explained in a clipped voice, doing his best not to scream at her. “Unless this is urgent, I really would rather we talk later.”

“Well, maybe it is urgent, okay?!?” She shrieked back, and Percival shook his head at her apparent desperation.

The red low cut dress that she wore displayed her pale cleavage as it bobbed up and down -- she panted like a dog in heat.

Closing his eyes, he exhaled slowly and asked, “What is it then?”

“Oh Percy,” she whined, stepping forward to close the small distance between them, “I’ve just found out I’m pregnant.”

Percival raised an eyebrow at her.

At any other time, had this only been a few months ago, he would embrace her in congratulations.

As things would have it, however, circumstances had changed.

“It’s not mine.” He stated dumbly.

Della scoffed, “No, of course it’s not you dolt. We haven’t even slept together yet. No… it’s Roth’s. I haven’t told him yet, but oh – I’m not sure what to do. I can’t keep him in the dark for long, but…”

“But what?”

“…But I still want to be with you, Percy.” she crooned, and she swooped upward to kiss him. Percival pulled back instantly, an imprint of bright red lipstick left on his own mouth.

“For God sake, Della!” Percival actually did scream at her this time, “You’re with child! Just go tell Roth, it’s fine. This little charade is over.”

Della back away like he had slapped her.

 As insult sunk in, she curled both her hands into fists, her pretty face contorting with fury.

“Is it true then?”

“What?”

“It is true, isn’t it?” Della growled, her voice dangerously low, “You’re in love with the Barebone boy…”

Percival’s head snapped up at the mention, his pulse already racing.

“Don’t.” he warned her.

“Was that what you were spending all that time off for?” she pressed, a gloating and twisted smile creeping onto her face, “You were off fucking your little orphan whore, weren’t you?”

Percival slapped her hard across the face, and it sounded as if someone had apparated into the room -- the loud crack echoed in the air, only accompanied by Percival’s own desperate breathing.

Percival wouldn’t apologize for it.

He was still too furious.

In fact, had the shocked Della not fled right and there, Percival might have done worse -- but she did, and Percival was left to stand in solitude until he was calm enough to see straight again.

It was a pity that his vision was still too clouded to catch the wisp of unnaturally dark smoke that fluttered past the nearest window.

 

* * *

 

A day later, Percival still had not heard from Newt.

Tina, much too conveniently, suddenly came down with the stomach flu and had to call in sick.

Percival had the mind to pay her a visit himself, but he knew he couldn’t just come barging in demanding to see Credence.

Tempting as it sounded, it wouldn’t be smart to breakdown her apartment door -- possibly shove Newt Scamander violently out of the way -- and grab Credence by the waist so he could drag the boy back to where he belonged.

Percival wouldn’t want to scare Credence, after all.

So he spent an entire day trying to think of how to handle this diplomatically.

He practiced things he might say to the boy in his head. He wondered if Credence would be too angry with him.

What if he didn’t want to see him?

The memory of Credence being dragged away, sobbing and shrieking as Newt pulled him onto the boat surfaced, and Percival doubted that that much was true.

When he finally got home from work, Percival decided he ought to look decent for his little reunion at the very least. From the brownstone entrance, he went straight to the bathroom, rather excited at the proposition of a relaxing bubble bath.

Unfortunately, when he got to his bathtub, there was already someone in it.

“Della!” Percival jumped back in surprise. The woman was stark naked, lying in the tub that was already filled with water.

Red water.

The blood pooled down into the bath from a waterfall of crimson; her slit throat was gaping open at him, frozen in a silent scream. Out of his own lips, Percival let out a sound that wasn’t entirely human.

He would try to heal her magically, but he could see very clearly that it was no use. The corpse was already decomposing.

Della was dead.

Percival heard what sounded like a muffled footstep coming from east end of the hall.

His hand went to his wand instantaneously, his mind hastily storing away his shock and grief for later -- whoever did this to her could still be here.

Stealthily, he crept out of the bathroom and turned to walk in the direction in which he thought he had heard the noise. Fortunately, he did not have to tip toe far.

His intruder was already waiting.

Credence stood trembling in the hallway, looking even smaller than Percival remembered him being. He was dressed in a satin red and black dress, the low cut of it exposing the top of his nipples.

It was her dress.

 It was Della’s.

“Credence...” Percival whispered, the breath suddenly knocked out of him by some invisible punch in the gut.

Credence was already crying, the tears flowing down his face like the blood that ran down Della’s throat.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Credence sobbed and choked, “I just wanted you to love me…”

Percival came closer to him, confident that Credence wouldn’t hurt him at least. He ran a hand through Credence’s long black hair, and said in the most soothing tone he could muster in his disbelief, “Credence, what did you do? Did you..”

Credence cut him off with a firm, hard kiss.

Percival leaned into it for only a moment before he snapped his head back.

What he had thought was some dark shade of lipstick melted into his mouth with the taste of concentrated iron. He ran his eyes over Credence’s body quickly. When he didn’t see any open wounds, he asked, “Credence…. Credence listen to me, my boy -- is that _your_ blood?”

And after a pause, Credence only said, his voice wrought with despair:

“Do you want it to be?”

**Author's Note:**

> come chat
> 
> carryonmyobscurialson.tumblr.com/


End file.
